


Underworld

by loveiscosmicsin



Series: Hymn of Stars and Blood (Secret Santa Gifts & IgNoct Drabbles) [3]
Category: FF15, FFXV - Fandom, Final Fantasy 15, Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Criminal AU, Criminal World AU, IgNoctSecretSanta, M/M, ffxvsecretsanta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-19 03:50:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13115379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveiscosmicsin/pseuds/loveiscosmicsin
Summary: Showing guests every respect for long as they remain in these halls was a philosophy Ignis lived by. They were to be guaranteed some human decency on the premises regardless of affiliation or social standing. Even if he himself did not believe that traitors deserve such a privilege, but it was a command. To be reminded of the treachery in the very place where the core foundation of his world had collapsed struck too close to home.Written for FFXVSecretSanta, kept at 50-550 word max., implied but not explicit violence, some language.





	Underworld

**Author's Note:**

> AU supplemented with https://twitter.com/letshareapapou/status/928391746853015552

“My patience runs thin.”  
  
Showing guests every respect for long as they remain in these halls was a philosophy Ignis lived by. They were to be guaranteed some human decency on the premises regardless of affiliation or social standing. Even if he himself did not believe that traitors deserve such a privilege, but it was a command. To be reminded of the treachery in the very place where the core foundation of his world had collapsed struck too close to home.  
  
Seven years ago, the Caelum Consortium rotted from the inside out and the former crime lord, a man of strong heart and will, was murdered along with his highest-ranking members, most associates with ties to the family deserted or were incarcerated. Noctis Lucis Caelum, the sole heir to the glorious legacy that would’ve been bequeathed to him, had met an all too similar fate and his name faded to obscurity.  
  
Ignis rebuilt the Consortium from the ground up, revenge and a network that would be once again be resounded throughout the country in mind. The underground trembled at mention of the Phantom Butcher of Insomnia, an alias he picked up with the leadership.  
  
Ignis looked over to the man groveling on the dirty floor. Tredd Furia, a former Kingsglaive soldier who bore a fresh wound that matched the one his cheek and covered in black and blue, was silent. His arrogance and smugness quelled now than when he boasted to the hostesses who catered him. Torture alone led to contradictions and mangled pleas, none that Ignis had no patience for. Information can be pried one way or another.  
  
A docile and unassuming man, raven hair slicked back, horn-rimmed glasses, and neat attire, entered the room uninvited, tray of two drinks and a warm towel in his hands. Ignis watched him leave before pouring chilled water over his bruised knuckles and dabbed at the drying blood on his face. The man was a fantastic assistant though the persona fabricated was a little much and didn’t veil his stormy discontent, not that Furia noticed.  
  
“Drink,” Ignis commanded, kneeling as he drenched the battered soldier. Furia weakly turned his head, spluttering and sucking water in before the crime lord hurled the half-empty bottle aside. “Take this moment to consider your next words wisely.”  
  
“Fuck you!” Furia spat vile, mark caught and defiling the sole of Ignis’ shoe. “Butcher or no butcher, you think you’re hot shit, dontcha? You’re nothing more than a sewer rat!”  
  
How eloquent, Ignis thought, uncaring of the uncouth remark. It was the first complete set of thoughts since the beginning of the interrogation. There’s spirit in him yet.  
  
Ignis grinned darkly. “The thing that amuses me is that you think I’m the one you need to worry about,” the crime lord turned his gaze to the only exit where someone witnessing the exchange through the bars, a man who the world thought long dead and forgotten. “when in fact, it’s him.”  
  
Noctis, the Phantom Butcher of Insomnia, re-entered the room, no trace of the servile mask to be found.


End file.
